In today’s world, many people seek so many different things and I think this is why chaos ensues. Many of those people who cross my path (in the writing community) have had college degrees, good paying jobs, money out the gazoo, and yet here they are, coming to writing after retiring or just tiring of not being fulfilled in their dream.
They have always wanted to be a writer, felt the calling, have written since they were kids, but never really pursued a writing career. Then there are those people who like writing and dive into wanting to become a writer and try their little hearts out, studying, learning, blooming and growing, often times getting discouraged because they don’t see any results.
I write to inform, touch people, raise awareness, or to offer something to this chaotic society. Writing isn’t all about fictional tales, horror stories, or tell-all non-fictional tales; writing is a form of release. I write to heal myself. After going to a ‘doctor’ who is really a Nurse Practitioner allowed to run a small office in a small town, I realized that sometimes we need healing that they can not offer. I was sent for x-rays, have gotten no results and it has been two weeks, not one call. Whereas I went to the dentist, got some relatively not great news, and when I got home, the dentist called to see if I was okay!
We live in a world where technology has made enormous advances, yet I am left in pain because the NP is not concerned with me and my health. This saddens me, but not enough to give up writing. I have to give up mentoring because at this point, I need to focus on me. I have many friends living with daily pain and now I am among the crowd who endures. No medical coverage, I too endure.
So why does one write? Why would I continue to write if I am going nowhere in my career choice? Because besides my Lord and Savior, my writing is my healer. It is my safety net, my blanket that keeps me warm on these bitter cold days. If I focus on a topic, I can belt out a good 1500 to 2500 words a day AND get my mundane chores around the house done. Although, in previous weeks, my mundane chores have taken a backseat, and just breathing is a welcome relief.
This year has been one of the strangest years I’ve lived. Miracles have taken place in my life, pain has surfaced, but also therein lies an utter joy and happiness and I find it in my writing. Whether a poem, a blog post, or encouraging another writer to be their best, the writing gift that I hold in me, is a blessing that I must share with others.
Why do I write? It is a God given talent, if I didn’t write, then my talent is empty and wasted.